


Balls are boring (but not with you)

by queststar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ballroom Dancing, F/F, First Dance, Fluff, The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queststar/pseuds/queststar
Summary: anotherouatwriter'stwitter prompt: EF SQ AU in which Regina attends her first ball and no one wants to dance with her because she’s Cora’s daughter and Emma steps out against her mother’s will and dances with Regina.Kept the working title because it madeessisnort ;)
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 159





	Balls are boring (but not with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anotherouatwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherouatwriter/gifts).



> So I'm suffering from this stupid writer's block and nothing I write I really like these days, but this was good enough to post as a one-shot. It's quickly written, quickly edited, and quickly posted before I lose my nerves again, so forgive me for any mistakes:)

Emma sees the mysterious girl at the first ball of spring. They have three spring balls. One for every passing of a month. But the first of the season ball is always a little more special because the new colors of the season are being introduced by, well, them. The royals. Snow White, specifically. It makes the first ball always a little more colorful because the attendants take their guesses on the colors of the Queen’s dress, and the princess colors, too. They’re usually wrong. 

Her mother, the queen Snow White, has gone all out with pastel colors this season. Emma herself is rebelliously dressed in off-white because honestly, the soft pink her mother had picked for her? Not going to happen. These dresses are horrible enough as it is already, and pink? Not her color.

Balls are important, her mother tells her every time Emma complains about having to go and tells her again while she begrudgingly watches Emma dress up in her own preferred dress. Emma is almost eighteen and is old enough to pick her own clothes for events like these, thank you very much. “They strengthen the ties to our community. And to other kingdoms and princedoms as well, sweetheart. They might seem frugal to you, but most business is conducted during balls. They’re only being solidified in meetings later.”

That might well be, but Emma thinks balls are boring. She sits next to her parents until all the important guests have been announced before they mingle. Before dozens of suitors line up to dance with her - and she indulges in a couple of them until her feet hurt, her toes have been stepped on and are slightly bruised, and she’s sick of their compliments with which they try to woo her.

As soon as it is polite, she returns to her seat and scans the crowd with a raised chin, curling and uncurling her toes in her dancing shoes. And that’s when she spots the dark-haired girl, half-hidden on one of the many sofas around the dance floor, dressed in a surprisingly pretty light-blue dress that leaves her shoulders bare. Her dark brown eyes are focused on the dancers, but she has a frown on her face and her lips are tightly pressed together.

“Who’s that, mom?” she whispers as her mother leans over. She points her out, and her mother follows her line of sight, and then, surprisingly, Snow White frowns.

“Oh, never mind  _ her, _ ” her mother waves away. “She’s not important.”   
  
Emma scoffs, rolls her eyes. “What happened with these ties to our community?” she counters her mother’s words with her own. “The girl looks lonely.” What’s more, if she looks a little closer, it looks like people are avoiding her like the plague. The girl has bent her head, hands are folded in her lap, and her fingers fidget in anxiety. “Why’s nobody approaching her?” she murmurs.    
  
“She’s the daughter of Cora Mills, sweetheart,” her mother whispers back as if it is all the explanation Emma needs. Emma frowns. She knows Cora Mills. Witch first-class, badass to the bone, married into the wealthy nobility and therefore not easily dismissed. A witch that their parents need to keep somewhat happy until they find a way to neutralize her. And she and her daughter look nothing alike, Emma sees - not at first sight anyway.

Her eyes wander through the ballroom and find Cora Mills, who’s talking to some of the nobility, too scared to turn their backs on her. Apparently, it’s easier to turn their back on her daughter. Cora is dressed in black and red and her dress is oddly shaped - Emma thinks that if Cora were to hang upside down from the ceiling, she’d look like a sleeping bat. The thought makes her snort as her gaze drift back to the seemingly miserable girl on the sofa. Her dark hair is wavy, tumbles over her bare shoulders. She’s probably amazingly beautiful when she smiles, Emma firmly believes.

But she doesn’t. Smile, that is. On the contrary, the girl looks very unhappy, and it makes Emma’s heart squeeze a little. “And?”   
  
“And Cora Mills has a reputation. She’s not a person we would like to associate ourselves with, dearest.”

Emma snorts. “I won’t associate myself with  _ her _ , but with her daughter.” She gets up. “I’m going to ask her to dance,” she says dismissively, ignoring her still painful feet.

“No, Emma,” Snow sharply says and for a moment, Emma hesitates. Her mother never uses her sharp voice, not on her anyway, and her eyes turn to her mother’s face in surprise as the heads of the guests closest by turn in their direction. 

“Why not?” Emma asks.   
  
“Some people are better to be left alone.”

“So what, you want to ignore her so she goes away? Apparently, that hasn’t worked for Cora Mills. Why would it work on her daughter? Besides,” she hisses, “haven’t you always told me to show kindness? She can’t help her mother’s actions. She’s not her mother.” 

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Snow counters.

But Emma scoffs, turns her back on her mother, ignores the fervent hisses of her name behind her, and makes her way through the ballroom, head held high. Several young men ask for a dance but she easily dismisses them, as she goes straight towards the girl she’s spotted from a distance.

“Hi,” she says, as she arrives at the small sofa the girl is sitting on. She’s just readjusting her dress, but her head snaps up in surprise.    
  
“Your Highness,” the girl breathes, eyes wide, and she looks around her. “Do you… want to talk to me?” Emma follows her gaze briefly until she understands that apparently, her presence is the last she has expected. She drops down on the sofa next to the girl, who immediately shuffles a little away from her.

“There’s no one else here, is there?” Emma says with a smile. “And call me Emma. Your Highness is my mother,” she grimaces, as she sends a dark glance into the direction of her mother, who’s looking back at her, lips pursed. She shoots a defiant look back before she turns her full attention to the girl next to her. “What’s your name?”   
  
The girl’s eyes flick nervously through the room. “Regina,” she murmurs. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” Emma tilts her head, curious about the young woman next ot her.   
  
“It’s, uh, my first ball.”

“Well, as you’ll soon figure out, balls are boring,” Emma smiles. “This one is a little interesting because nobody has figured out mom’s color palette yet so the colors are vibrant. Some people dress like parrots because they want to get at least one of the colors right. They hardly ever do.”   
  
Regina’s lips curve into a tiny smile and inside, Emma cheers - that tiny smile makes butterflies in her stomach flutter. Suddenly, it is very important to make Regina happy. “You’ve got to make them interesting, yourself. For instance, you can-”   
  
"Pardon me,” they hear, and both their heads snap up - the little bubble they were in suddenly broken.

“Princess, may I have this dance?”   
  
A nobleman she has danced with earlier bows formally, his eyes flick cautiously between Regina and Emma. Regina’s shoulders, Emma notices, slump slightly.

“No. I’m currently otherwise involved,” Emma dismisses him sharply. The man frowns but doesn’t move. “With her?” he asks disbelieving, and she’s surprised how a sudden surge of irritation washes over her.

“It’s alright,” Regina murmurs subdued, “I-”

“No, it’s  _ not _ . Sir, we’re having a private conversation which you are rudely interrupting. Please, move along.” Emma raises her chin, puts her nose up in the air, and waves him away as if she smells something dirty. The man wants to say something, but Emma stares him down and he backs off with a frown on his face, tail between his legs.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” Regina says softly, her hands again folded together, fingers twisting nervously.

“Oh, I won’t.”

Regina’s head snaps up, but there’s a look of resignation on her face that stirs something deep within Emma as she carefully lifts her hand and touches Regina’s upper arm.

“Will you dance with me?”

The girl’s face flushes. “What- me?” She searches for Emma’s eyes with her own, wide in disbelief.

Emma chuckles amused and rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, there’s  _ still _ not sitting anyone else here but you.” She stands up, curtsies, and holds her hand out for Regina to take.

Regina’s eyes flick nervously through the room. Emma knows they will draw some attention - a princess always does, no matter where she goes. “It’s okay,” she whispers with a grin, “they’re just jealous that they didn’t ask for your very first dance.”

Regina snorts, nervously, but extends her hand. Slender fingers lightly brush over Emma’s palm before Emma curls her own around them, and she takes a step back so Regina can stand. 

“You do know how to dance, do you?” Emma softly asks, suddenly a little worried about her still-bruised toes, but she doesn’t need to worry - her question earns her a dignified look.

“Of course I do,” Regina huffs and Emma grins. Yes, Emma thinks with a smile, she really likes this girl.

It soon becomes clear that Regina is adamant in leading their dances which she very skillfully does, and Emma is a willing victim, is gladly swept away in Regina’s more than capable arms. After two dances, Emma kicks her shoes to the side of the dance floor because her feet still hurt and without those ridiculous heels she can probably go on way longer - no way she’s going to give up dancing with this young woman who surprises her in more way than one. Regina throws her head in her neck and laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Emma has ever heard - she vows that it’ll be her mission tonight to keep Regina radiant and happy. 

The night progresses way too fast. For the first time in years, Emma is sad to see the ball end. And as Cora Mills comes to collect her daughter - god, the woman looks so smug now that the crown princess has danced with her daughter all night - she showers Emma in compliments.    
  
Emma smiles politely because it’s the princessy thing to do, and the woman wanders off to, not surprisingly, say goodbye to Emma’s mother. 

“So, next ball, same time?” Emma asks with a smile, and Regina nods, lips curved up in a cheeky smile and shining eyes, in which Emma believes she can drown if she gets the chance. Regina hesitates, then quickly leans over, and places her soft lips on Emma’s cheeks.

The touch does something to Emma’s lower belly, and her face flushes, and breath catches in her throat. And as she desperately tries to collect herself - goodness, she nearly trips over her own feet as she tries to keep standing, Regina comes closer again, an amused shimmer in her eyes.

“You were wrong,” Regina whispers, her breath caressing Emma’s cheek. “Balls aren’t boring.”

“Depends on your defintion of boring balls,” Emma quips as the nobleman she rejected in order to be able to dance with Regina, passes them by with a look of disdain on his face. 

Regina snorts unladylike and a giggle escapes from her throat, and Emma grins right before Cora comes back and Regina steps away from her. Yeah, she thinks, as she lifts her hand in a quick goodbye before touching the cheek Regina just kissed - the skin still tingles. 

Balls like these, she can definitely get used to.


End file.
